Making Myron Proud

My church in Goshen is really big on community. I never really got on board, though. It’s not that I didn’t believe it was important. I just couldn’t ever figure out how to create it. And as I often do when I can’t figure something out, I responded by not trying. Now that I’ve moved to a different hemisphere, I think it’s finally starting to make some sense.

Last Friday night, I moved into the home of a wonderful Paraguayan family. They are teaching me about community. Allow me to recreate our first introduction. Carol (a seasoned missionary) and I drive up to a very typical looking Paraguayan home, get out of the car, and clap to alert them of our presence. A fourteen year old girl comes around the corner to welcome Carol with besitos, one kiss on each cheek. She proceeds to lead us through a tall door that is just wide enough for my body, into a tiny family room. Inside, we are warmly greeted by Noemi’s mom, Edy. After besitos, she leads us through another body-sized doorway into what looks like a study. Here, we all squeeze in amidst a couch, two arm chairs, two bookcases, an electric keyboard, and a small table and desk, both covered with books, papers, and music. While Carol and Edy are talking, I look through the next doorframe to see a small bedroom containing two twin beds and two wardrobes. I assume that I will be sharing this room with Ana, Noemi’s older sister. I tune back into the Spanish conversation between Carol and Edy, at which point I realize that the girls both sleep in the bedroom, and I am going to be spending the next 5 months in the study, which also serves as a walkway between the family room and the girls’ bedroom. Bedrooms clearly aren’t designed to be lived in, here. They’re designed to be slept in. Living rooms are for living. Together. I was to live as they do. Together. All the time. Taking a deep breath, I very quickly came to terms with two realities. First, my living situation was perfectly designed for me by my loving heavenly Father. Second, His plan included chipping away at my very sacred need for personal space, privacy, and time alone.

I want to learn to live as a Paraguayan. Therefore, instead of freaking out about seemingly impossible situations, I try to think, “If this is a part of a Paraguayan’s every day life, there must be a way to make it work.” I need time alone. Just ask my family. I get really irritable without it. I lose perspective. I need it. My time alone enables me to love my time with people. But somehow, Paraguayan young people don’t get much of it and they seem to be coping quite well. They couldn’t have all been born extroverts. Come to think of it, a lot of the world lives in really close community. How in the world can the introverts in these cultures maintain their emotional stability?

Well, I have a hypothesis. I will be putting it to the test throughout the coming months and might graduate it to the theory stage by December. Could it be that what I’ve labeled as a need to be alone is actually a misdiagnosed need to rest? We all have a Self that we like and another that we try to hide. When alone, our unlikeable Self can exist without our likeable Self having to exert the energy required to subdue it. In this place, we can be real. We don’t have to fight with ourselves. We can rest. I’m not talking about ceasing to fight against sin, but against those parts of our personalities that we just don’t like. Maybe maintaining our own idea of a socially acceptable persona takes a lot of energy and we just get really tired. Maybe that’s why people in Latin and African cultures tend to be so happy. Christians in these places are especially free from the need to perform. Since they live together all the time, they can’t hide. It’s impossible. So they don’t. As a result, they have to accept one another as whole people.

According to First John, fellowship is walking in the light and walking in love. How interesting. Isn’t walking in the light refusing to hide the Self of which we are ashamed? And what is love, if not resisting the temptation to despise a brother who has dared to expose his unlikable Self? When I really think about the people in my life, I realize that I only pull back from people when I am fighting my feelings. When I am able to rest in their presence, however, I can be with them indefinitely, without needing time alone. I rest with some people because they bring out my likeable Self; I never have to hide my unlikable Self from them because it doesn’t seem to exist. This fellowship, however, is based on a false reality. Sometimes, though, I don’t hide because I know that I am wholly loved. This must be true fellowship.

So, how do we get there? I don’t know. I don’t like crying in front of people, but nearly everyone here has seen me cry. They’ve seen me laugh a lot, too, often through my tears. Last Sunday, I left the group because I was feeling weepy and didn’t want the others to see me cry. God really got after me, though, about this whole fellowship thing. So I wiped my eyes, waited for the redness to fade, climbed the stairs leading back up to the sanctuary, and rejoined the group. A few minutes later, one of my new friends, Joel, introduced me to his sister, Sarah. “Oh, my best friend’s name is Sarah!” I said, happily. “Do you miss your friends?” Joel asked. I burst into tears. Then I started laughing and apologizing for being such a crybaby. They hugged me, we all laughed, and my love for life quickly returned. I wonder how long I would have taken to come to that place, on my own. How long would have I isolated myself, waiting for the emotion to pass?

On another occasion, I was ecstatic to hear someone describe me as always having a smile on my face. Given that she was included in the “everyone” who has seen me cry, I had been worried that she thought I was an emotionally unstable wimp. But she seemed to understand that the sad moments were just a part of the whole. What a blessing to be seen in this way! Is it possible that this perspective has actually become natural for people who live in close community? How do we have true fellowship? I don’t know. But for me I think it has started by determining that I will allow others to see the Self of which I am not particularly fond. This means that I can neither suppress it nor isolate myself when it appears. In fact, I should probably stop referring to it as a separate Self. Besides giving my readers concern for my mental health, I really should embrace it as being a part of my whole person. For me, having true fellowship includes loving those around me, and embracing them as whole persons, as well. Granted, this all sounds much prettier than it actually is. Not better, but certainly prettier. Walking in the light means being misunderstood, judged, and rejected. Walking in love means being cut on people’s rough edges. Paraguayans refer to a lot of things as being feo. Ugly is our best English translation. The muddy road is feo. A kitchen before it is cleaned up after dinner is feo. Words that hurt others are feo. A person’s behavior can be feo. I bet fellowship can be really feo. But I bet it’s worth it.

Walking in light and walking in love. I wonder if this will help me thrive in such close community. I think it’s what I’m observing from the Paraguayans. It certainly lines up with Scripture. If I stop fighting my Self, maybe I won’t be so tired and need so much time alone. Maybe. Maybe I’ll actually prefer communal living over the independence to which I’ve grown accustomed. How freeing. Right now it’s still a hypothesis.

An Ode to my Sister

At the end of this year’s family vacation in California, I told my sister that the next blog I do would be called, An Ode to my Sister. Spending the entire week with her, her three little boys, and her husband, I was constantly awed by her selflessness. Good moms are nearly always on the clock. They don’t have the luxury of leaving their work at the office. They are always in charge. They are always Mom. Always. And the thing about my sister, is that she never ever complained. Her boys would never know they were wearing her down to the bone. She never made them feel like a burden. Never. She had amazing self-control. I can’t even begin to count the number of times my feelings of frustration and exhaustion would have gotten the best of me. But not Danielle. She always smiled. She always spoke kindly. Even on the plane ride home, after an entire week of running, she sat between her 3 and 4 year old and played with them the entire 4 hour plane ride home. She is my hero. I always talk about how I want to be more like Jesus. Well, for all of my reading, serving, presenting, and teaching, I pale in comparison to my sister, the stay-at-home-mom. And really, when I see the cost of completely giving up my comfort, time, goals, self, for the sake of others, I’m not sure I really want to be like Christ quite that badly. It’s one thing to talk about dying to Self when you know you always have the choice of whether or not you want to die. Danielle surrendered the right to chose the moment she had kids. Dying isn’t optional for her. She never just checks out and goes to her room when she needs some time alone. She’s always on the clock. Always. I left that week realizing a small extent of my selfishness and realizing that I am definitely not ready to be a mom.

Ten Days In

After a day of being continuously awed by God’s involvement in my day of travel, my plane landed in Asuncion, Paraguay, around midnight on Fri PM/ Sat AM. Bob and Carol Givens, the seasoned missionaries who will be responsible for my transition into Paraguayan life, picked me up and drove me 3 hours south to their home in Villarica, a town/ city of 40,000 residents (in addition to about 30,000 residential college students from the surrounding areas). Saturday night, they held youth group at their home and I got to meet several 15-21 year olds. Sunday morning, 150 people gathered in their back yard for a monthly church service. After the service, the whole church ate together and played games, and then the Givens packed up and we left for SIM Paraguay’s annual Spiritual Life Conference, a week where all of the SIM missionaries gather at a campground for worship, fellowship, and teaching.

At the conference, I was blessed to have meaningful conversations, fun playing volleyball and catch-phrase, and spiritual preparation for the coming months. Most of my teammates are between 25 and 35 years old, married, and actively parenting several young children. As I am missing my own sisters and nephews, I’m thankful for the chance to be involved in the lives of other young families. Getting to know the other single person on the team, Fiona Cooper, was also a real blessing. Fiona is from the UK, currently teaching English at a university in Asuncion, and 6 months into a 2 year term. Additionally, we spent a lot of time with Hannah Smith, an MK from Kenya, who will be in Villarica with me for the next 3 weeks. Spiritually, God just showed up over and over again, assuring me that His presence would continue to surround me in this new season of my life. He is so good.

This past Friday, the conference ended and I joined 9 adults and 5 kids on a trip to Iguazu Falls, the most amazing waterfalls in the world. I’ll post pictures. They seriously put Niagra to shame. They are in the area where Paraguay, Argentina, and Brazil meet. Also, its convenient location makes the Paraguayan boarder city, Ciudad del Este, the black market capital of South America! Exiting, huh?:) At the end of the bridge that connects Brazil and Paraguay, all cars are searched because Paraguay taxes all goods coming into the country (for sale in Ciudad del Este). Things being carried in on foot, however, are not subject to this tax (because the assumption is that people are carrying it in for their own use, as opposed to resale). To get around this tax, trucks are unloaded on the Brazilian side, and then carriers are hired to carry the goods across the bridge. Once on the Paraguayan side, moto taxis wait to take the carriers back to the Brazilian side so they can do another round! I have a picture of some girls throwing boxes over the bridge to a boat below that collected the merchandise! Ah, yes, it was an exciting trip, indeed. Unfortunately, it’s usually the only city that tourists ever see in Paraguay, so they leave with a negative and very incorrect perception of this hospitable country. Back to the falls, though. The falls were amazing. What more is there to say. When you all come to visit, I’ll take you. Until then, I’ve posted a few pictures and a 15 second video that I took while there. Had I been alone, I could have stayed for hours…

Tomorrow, I’ll do laundry, regroup, and possibly move in to my host family’s home. The Ortizes have 2 daughters, Anita who is 21 and Naomi who is 14.

As far as how I’m doing, I’m wonderful. I’m so excited to be finally living the days I’ve dreamt about for the last 10 years. I love all of the newness. I am amazed by the need to slam on the breaks for the random cows that in the roads, receive odd satisfaction from the nausea that comes from the bumpiest cobblestone on which I’ve ever ridden, still appreciate the roosters who wake me between 5 and 6 each morning, savor the smell of empanadas and chipa in the streets, am willingly allowing myself to become addicted to terare, the national drink, adore the language and perspectives of my Canadian and British colleagues, and LOVE playing games with Paraguayan youth who make fun of my Spanish. This first week, I’ve easily taken over 500 photos, (and deleted over half of themJ). More than anything, though, I’ve loved resting in the knowledge that I’m where the Lord wants me, and that He will never leave me or forsake me.
As far as prayer goes, please pray that I adapt to the lack of time alone. Basically, I’ve been with people almost the entire time I’ve been here. Despite the wonderfulness of my teammates, it’s been exhausting! I probably haven’t had as much time by myself as what I require to function long-term. I went into this week understanding that I was being given an incredible chance to begin building relationships with my new teammates. Since most of them live at least 3 hours away from my new home of Villarica, the time at camp was a unique time. Ideally, however, I would have had a bit more time by myself to process all of the newness. But I didn’t and God’s grace has been working overtimeJ I would imagine, though, that my life with the Ortiz family will not include as much independence as what I’ve been used to, either, so just pray that I’m flexible and the Lord supplies my lack.

Also, despite being surrounded by people all the time, I’ve had times of feeling alone, as well, and have felt fearful about the loneliness that these next several months will bring. Up until the week before my arrival, I was anticipating fellowship with 3 other single young women who would be arriving, this summer. In a matter of 2 weeks, though, I’ve been disappointed to learn that they will all be working in other cities. The Lord has made it clear that He plans to richly bless my relationship with Him in these next 5 months. And He has certainly proven His love for me, so I completely trust Him. This peace, however, has come only after a few tears. Please pray that I come to know Him as my companion and friend.

So, that’s my life. Sorry this is so long. I think this is longer than any e-mail you will ever receive from me, but I went with it since it has been such a big first week. Thanks for your patience and friendship. You’re great. Come to Paraguay.

Crazy Emotions

For the past 24 hours, I’ve been saying a lot of goodbyes. I’ve been surprisingly unemotional. Then at the dinner (lunch) table with my family, I completely broke down because I wouldn’t be able to throw my sister-to-be a bridal shower because I’ll be in Paraguay the months preceding her wedding. My breakdown came out of nowhere, lasted all of 30 seconds, and left as quickly as it had arrived. Several hours later, I lost it again when I tried to relay a conversation I had had with my nephew. I wasn’t feeling any emotion when I began, but started sobbing just seconds into the story, as if somebody flipped on my heart’s grief switch without my knowledge! A few days ago, Braden and I were playing softball, and I told him that when I come home from Paraguay, he’ll be on a real baseball team and I’ll sit in the bleachers to cheer him on. Sometimes, the thought of returning to find my 1,3,and 5 year old nephews 4,6, and 8 is more than I can bear.

These days my emotions are best illustrated by Indiana weather: entirely unpredictable. “How are you feeling?” everyone keeps asking. Well, this week my feelings have pretty much run the gamut. Gratitude. Self-pity. Joy. Peace. Depression. Anticipation. Anxiety. Gratitude. Confidence. Discouragement. Excitement. Peace. Fear. Awe. Nostalgia. Gratitude. Impatience. Anticipation. Peace. Absolutely nothing. Is that normal? I think I’m going to have to get used to tears and purchase a new bottle of waterproof mascara.

What I hate more than crying, though, is not crying. Already, there have been a few times when someone that I love has started to cry when struck with the reality of our upcoming separation. Since my own emotions are so weird, I often don’t cry back. I feel like that communicates my own lack of grief. It’s not that I don’t treasure these relationships. My emotions are just operating in overload mode, and I’m finding it difficult to manipulate them. I hate that! I dread the Sunday afternoons in Paraguay when I know that my family is sitting around the dinner table in Indiana, dialoguing about the relevance and faithful application of Scripture in today’s culture. Hopefully I’ll still be experiencing enough newness that missing Braden’s 5th birthday won’t be too overwhelming. I’m sure I will have to guard against depression, though, this Thanksgiving when I imagine everyone strolling the streets of Chicago, drinking apple cider and looking at the window displays on the Magnificent Mile. I know there will be times when I will miss Sarah so badly that I will turn on one of Dad’s worship mixes, collapse on my bed, ask Jesus to come and minister to my loneliness, and cry and cry and cry. Some Saturday nights will be hard, too, when I will so badly desire to be among the dear community that commissioned me, last night. And dang it that I’ll miss seeing my baby brother turn 21. Some days, I’ll really need Angela’s contagious joy, the inspiring sparkle in Hope’s peaceful eyes, the reassurance of Gene’s warmth and friendship, Myron and Dana’s encouragement, friendship, and wisdom, and Jodi, Eileen, Carol, and Ruth’s warm affirmation. On those days, I know that the Lord will provide through His own sweet presence, through His creation, and through His people. But I’ll also grieve. And He’ll grieve with me, because He didn’t create relationships to be broken. Even if I’m not crying now, I can assure you that when my tears do come, they will be almost unbearable.

My emotions are weird. Their unpredictability forces me to fall back into the faith that God can control them so they achieve that for which they were created. In that confidence, I can rest.